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Someone persuaded me to visit Amrita's studio when I was in Shimla. I readily agreed. She greeted me warmly and I felt drawn to her. There was something direct and simple in her manner, contrasting with the highly sophisticated enervating social environs of the place. "You are from the South?" was her first question. I nodded and waited for her to open up. "I have had a most enjoyable tour there," came the opening sentence in an emotional tone. "I loved every bit of it-the red ocher earth, the dazzling green of the vegetation, above all the rich dark skin of the people. Everything seemed to come alive. The temples were pulsating, not deadpan as they so often are." The words came tumbling out. "You went further South, did you not? That is the part I come from, where the waterways and coconut groves are." I interposed. "Yes, Yes. Rich thick vegetation, and people wearing simple white fabric pieces as a reaction I presume. And everything stark Indian-little traces of the tawdry Western blight. Have you noticed how ugly the samples of that civilization look our midst?"
Then we began a round of her pictures. "The South has changed my very style of painting," she explained as she showed me the Fruit Vendors she had painted in Cape Comorin. They seemed a part of that region as though they had sprung from the soil. I had the same feeling looking at Brahmacharis. They were not created externally, they just belonged there. It was a wonderful illusion she created. For me the "Elephants Bathing In A Green Pool" was another that came nearest that sensation.
"You know I feel my gift began to blossom only after I came to India, not only in emotion but even in technique," she continued to explain. "I feel I am interpreting this land, its people with their silent submission. I had to devise my own technique. The South has now added a new dimension. That is how in spite of Western training I react deeply to the atmosphere."And which people mistakenly call rebellion" -- I finished the sentence for her. "One of the qualities in your pictures I value is their simplicity even while projecting all the essentials, you nevertheless seem to clothe them with a sense of decoration." I remarked. She became very thoughtful then added: "Part of my problem perhaps lies in the types I choose to depict. I don't know how much of my work you have seen but in common language what many people rave as beautiful to me is inspired. So what stirs me must seem to them ugly. Even the India I see, to me is bathed in a melancholy air, it is not the superficial exuberant India of the travel pictures. So some people say there is no Indian touch in my work, I am foreign." At this stage I stopped her and explained that I was not concerned as to whether what she painted was Indian or un-Indian. "You are creating and I react to your creation and what it means to me." I am convinced you are sincere and true to your own perceptions. That is all that matters. The perceptions of no two are alike. You know that the images we see are created out of our own vibrations. There is no one static image, hence the concept of Maya. In this vast world there is scope for myriads of perceptions with differing reactions. It is futile agitating over this reality. All that matters is your own adherence to your creative urge unmindful of the shafts that strike your path."
